Patch Job
by Skalidra
Summary: Dick plays an eternal guessing game with his safehouses, wondering if any of the rest of his family will have stopped by since he's last been there, and how bad a mess it will be. This time, he finds the culprit still there. Jason, all passed out in the bed.


Hello! So I'm pushing my way through the last of the prompts I've got (now that I can focus on something for real), and this is one of them! This was an anonymous request for Jason and Dick starring with number 6, 'Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?' Hope you enjoy! (Stray!Verse will be back on Friday, by the way.)

Also, apologies to anyone who's reviewed in the last four days or so on here. Fanfiction has been refusing to let me reply to reviews, so that's why no one's gotten any answers. Apologies! (This is part of why Ao3 is a million times better and you should totally follow me over there.)

* * *

It's like some kind of eternal guessing game. Will one of my family have raided this safehouse since the last time I've been here? Will I end up scrounging in pantries that should have had food and cleaning up scattered towels that have been there for weeks? At least none of my family is _quite_ irresponsible enough to leave dirty dishes. Well, some are, but Cass also makes a point to do occasional runs of all of their safe houses and clean up. She's a lifesaver in _so_ many ways.

It doesn't look like anyone's here at first, at least not until I get all the way into the bedroom.

The first hint is the flash of blue light, and my reactions snap _bomb_ before I've even fully recognized the source of the light. I freeze in place, poising to spring to the side, run, or fix the problem. Then the light flashes again, and it illuminates two things. The first is the shape of the black phone it's coming from, and the second is the pale skin of someone in my bed, face down. I stay still for another half a second, my eyes adjusting to the dark as I focus on that skin. It's a pair of shoulders, split by stretches of scar tissue, and a head of black hair. He's — too wide to be a woman — turned away from me, and one arm is sprawled out over the covers while the other is tucked underneath the pillow beneath that head.

It only takes me another half of a second to recognize the shape as Jason, and my mouth curls into a small smile.

I rap my knuckles against the frame of the door, loud enough that anyone with our kind of trained senses should snap to attention. Jason flinches a bit, jerks up and twists onto his free arm while the hand beneath the pillow emerges with a long knife. I stay still, standing just past the doorway as he finds and focuses on me. The light from past the door illuminates just enough of his face that I can see his eyes.

"Hey, Jason," I greet. "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

He blinks, stares for a second, and then sinks back down onto the bed. "Closer," he answers, and I straighten up because the word sounds a little bit slurred. Jason's more of a morning person than most of us, and he doesn't slur his words when he gets tired, he just gets grouchy. "Needed to crash."

I approach the bed slowly, making sure I'm in his range of vision so he can stop me if he wants to. Sometimes Jason gets touchy about people being close to him. It doesn't seem like this is one of those times, but it's better to be careful. He shifts a bit to the side though, and I take it as the invitation it is to sit down on the bed next to him. I reach out and gently touch his hair, and he gives a small grunt of sound. He's a lot more relaxed than it seems like he should be, even if he is totally exhausted.

"You alright, Jason?" I reach out as I ask, gently touching his back. Then firming my touch when he doesn't complain, keeping my fingers careful as I run them over his shoulders.

"M'fine," he mumbles, at almost exactly the same time as my fingers find something wet near the front of his far shoulder.

I yank my hand back up, twisting to look at it in the light and then biting back a curse. "Damnit, Jason. Are you naked _and_ bleeding in my bed?" I lean over and switch the light on the nightstand on, and then turn back and fling the sheets down off of his back.

He curls in on himself a bit, grumbling, " _Fuck_ , that's bright."

Now I can really see the smear of blood across my fingers, and a glance down his body — not totally naked, he's still wearing a pair of black boxers — gives me more streaks of blood and a few cuts that I can see are still sluggishly beading. Nothing looks _really_ serious, but I can see that at least two need stitches. I twist a little further, sliding my fingers through his hair so I can pull his head up. He doesn't immediately hit me for the manhandling, which tells me something's wrong even before I see the glaze to his eyes.

"What happened?" I demand, studying his pupils and lowering my other hand to check the pulse in his throat. Slow, and his pupils are smaller than they should be. He looks... Frankly, he looks like he's on some heavy sedatives. "What are you on?"

His eyes drift shut for a second, and then he startles back into awareness as he swallows. "M'fine," he repeats, with a bit of a grumble. "Jus' tired; sleepin' it off." He seems to come back to my first question then, and I shift my grip to better support his head as he goes all but limp in my hands. "Drug bust," he breathes, "s'me kinda special new mix and they got me with a needle." I tense up a bit, but before I can properly freak out that Jason got injected with some kind of _experimental drug_ he's correcting me. "Not th' drug, jus' ingredients. Sedative. Still took 'm down." He grumbles again, squinting up at me. " 'S not important, Dick. Jus' some scratches; 'll fix them in the mornin'."

I wince, carefully lowering Jason's head back down to the bed. "You need some stitches, Jason. At least on your back. Let me patch you up?"

Normally Jason doesn't let anybody but Alfred touch his wounds, but there's a good chance that his guard is down enough thanks to whatever drugs are in his system that he might agree. I really don't want to leave Jason alone and bleeding in my bed, and honestly I know that if he doesn't let me then I'll probably just sit here all night and watch to make sure that he doesn't lose too much blood. That, or call Alfred to come out for a house call. I hate to wake him up, but he'll understand. Even if Jason is the black sheep of the family, he's still family. We'd never leave him to fend for himself, not again.

Jason's shoulders shift in something like a shrug. "Go ahead," he mumbles, a whole lot easier than I was expecting.

I don't push my luck.

"Stay there," I tell him, and he makes some kind of snorting grumble that sounds like it might be him laughing at the idea that he can really move. I get to my feet and head for my bathroom to retrieve one of my more basic medical kits. There's another in the closet, but it's more specialty and heavy duty. I don't need anything more than the basic supplies to clean him up and stitch him shut. Nothing looked too bad, and since I didn't see any pool of blood anything I missed can't be all that nasty. He'll live; no doubt there.

Jason's a little more firmly on his stomach when I come back, arms drawn up to cross beneath his pillow. If his eyes weren't open and looking at me, I might be convinced that he'd fallen back asleep. But they are, even if they're lidded and still fairly glazed over. That sedative in his system is probably the only reason he's got the injuries I can see, since you don't have to be that good of a fighter to hit someone drugged all to hell. Probably a lucky shot to begin with, and then a few more people got him before he put an end to it.

I should probably take a look through police reports in the morning for any drug lab fires with casualties. Jason's been a lot better about keeping his skills dialed back to nonlethal, but when he thinks he's in danger he doesn't hesitate. If he was drugged, and then injured, chances are very good that he killed anyone around him instead of risking the chance they'd take him down. He's not that self-sacrificing, especially not when it's his life at stake. Jason is _very_ protective of his own life, understandably.

I sit back down at his side, opening up the kit and quietly unpacking it. He's watching me, but he stays silent. Occasional glances down prove that he's still awake though, which is definitely a good thing. I don't want him falling asleep, at the very least, until I've finished patching him up. Better not to wake one of us up with sharp little bursts of pain, the reactions tend to be pretty violent.

He shifts but doesn't complain when I wipe the blood away from one of his deeper looking cuts, carefully sterilizing the area — that gets me a small hiss — before turning to the needle. He grumbles again when I start stitching him up, but apparently he's a bit too out of it to feel the pain that he should be. That, or his pain tolerance is coming back into play and it's just not enough for him to really care. Either way, I keep my touch gentle as I close the wound, and then carefully wipe the blood away one more time before reaching for a pad to secure over it. That will do for now; Jason can change the bandages in the morning.

I move on, patching up each cut and stitching the ones that need it. His breathing stays pretty slow and even, and I stay focused on my work.

"Thanks for letting me do this," I murmur, as I work on the last of his wounds. "I know you don't like me treating you."

Jason shrugs. " 'S not you," he answers, just as quietly. "Just my issues. I trust you to fix me."

"Yeah?" I ask, with a small smile.

"Mmmhmm." Jason shifts a bit, closes his eyes and relaxes. "You're a good friend. You keep me steady, Dick. 'S a good thing."

I finish taping on the last bandage, and then gently rest my hand at the small of his back. I lean down, pressing a small kiss to his temple before I murmur, "You are _so_ out of it, little wing. You're very sweet, but I doubt you'll even remember any of this in the morning. Turn over for me for a minute? Just gotta check your front."

He rolls over, only making a little bit of a face as he falls onto his back. His eyes stay closed though, and I slide my gaze down his skin. There's nothing though, it looks like all the injuries are focused on his back. That would make sense if he got drugged and fell, which is as likely as anything else. I'll have to ask him more about what happened tomorrow, and see if there's anything I can do to help. Maybe there's still some clean up that needs to be done, or maybe he could just use someone to care for him for a couple of days while he heals up. We're all used to dealing with still-healing injuries, but that doesn't mean it's fun. Sometimes it's nice to have someone around to help you out when stretching in _just_ the wrong way hurts like a bitch.

"Alright, you're good." I set to work packing the first aid kit back up, as Jason grumbles and shifts to roll onto his side, facing me. "So, you didn't really warn me you were dropping by and I'm tired, little wing. You good with me crashing in the bed with you?"

Jason's head dips in what I think is a nod. "Long 's you're not naked, sure." He yawns, widely, and then pushes his head down into the pillow. " 'M jus' gonna pass out. Thanks for th' patch job."

I smile down at him, clicking the first aid kit shut and then getting up to return it to its place. Jason looks like he's pretty firmly asleep when I get back into the room, mouth just a little parted. My mouth feels like it's stuck in a permanent small smile as I strip down to my boxers, leaving the pieces of my clothing scattered across the room before I click the light off. I crawl into bed at Jason's back, reaching down to grab the sheets I flung back and pull them back up over both of our shoulders. I probably shouldn't slide closer to Jason, wrap my arm around his waist, or duck my nose down against the nape of his neck, but I do anyway. He can hit me in the morning, if he's going to.

"Good night, Jason," I murmur. He doesn't even stir.

* * *

I get jerked awake by an impact against my ribs, and I startle and drag in a sharp breath. For just a moment I'm ready to fight, and then I recognize the body in my arms and the fact that the impact was sudden, but not really painful. I blow out the breath, tightening my grip and ducking my head back down towards the inviting comfort of Jason's neck.

" _Dick_ ," Jason grumbles, pulling against my hold. "Get off of me you _octopus_."

"Ten more minutes," I whisper, not wanting to leave the muzzy safety of sleep just yet.

"Yeah, _no_. It's morning, I've got shit to do, and if you don't let me go I'm going to elbow you for real this time. Won't be fun for you."

Unfortunately he's not bluffing, so I sigh and loosen my grip around his waist and the curl of my leg between his. He pulls away, pushing himself to sitting as I arch and stretch. I take a look at his back, searching for anything that might need to be fixed, but it looks like my work held up pretty well. He's got some new bruises though, mostly peeking out from behind the bandages but not all of them. He stretches his arms up above his head, and then hisses in pain and is much more careful about lowering his arms again.

"You alright?" I ask, and then follow it up with, "Remember last night?"

Jason turns, looking over his shoulder at me. "You mean do I remember what I said?" Yeah, he's got me. "I remember. It was just sedatives, you moron, it's not like I was high. Sorry about getting your sheets bloody, by the way. You get off of them and I'll take them up to Alfred, if you want."

"Not the first time," I dismiss. "It's fine; I was heading to the manor later anyway. Did you mean any of it?"

Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I meant it." Before I can even _start_ to move he's snapping, "If you hug me I swear to _god_ I will punch you."

I do it anyway, wrapping my arms around him and pressing up against his back. "Worth it," I say with a smile, as Jason huffs out an irritated breath. But his head tilts back, lying against my shoulder, and one of his hands rises to lightly grasp the arm I have wrapped around his chest. I definitely don't get elbowed, or otherwise hit, so I murmur, "Thanks for trusting me."

He shrugs a little bit. "You can be a righteous asshole sometimes, but you're not so bad. Wouldn't hurt me if you could avoid it, I know that. Just my own fucked up head that makes me forget it sometimes."

I tilt my head down into his shoulder, tightening my grip just a little bit. "No offense taken," I promise. "Whatever you need, little wing."

He snorts. "Right now, I need you to let me the fuck go so I can pee, Dick. Think you can manage that?"

I give a small laugh, and hug him tighter for just a second before I let go. "Go for it. Want me to check these over and change the bandages when you're done?"

"Sure," Jason agrees easily, as he stands. "Sounds good."


End file.
